Spitfire (Puffin Cove) (11 page)

She peered closer, the details of their feathered wings, alert eyes, and razor sharp talons so real that she wanted to touch them to be sure
. She wandered down the line of descriptions, each one detailing their habits, the wood they were carved from and the mediums they were painted with. They were incredible. She read the 'about the artist' plaque with a growing sense of shock and horror.

"
Kane Downey is a master carver, having received his degree at Burren College of Art, Arcadia University, Dublin Ireland. He made a name for himself in the art community both in Ireland and Canada, and is now celebrated internationally. Newfoundland is proud to call Mr. Downey a permanent resident. His works can be seen here at The Rooms, and are available for purchase in his downtown St. John's gallery or through his catalogue."

By the time she was finished reading
, her face was paste white. Her knees were weak and tiny points of light were zooming past her peripheral vision. She was fairly certain that her retinas were detaching.

She vaguely saw
Jill's expression of giddy expectation turn to panic, as she was pushed down onto the bench and her head was shoved between her knees.

"
Oh, God. Jesus, Laura. I'm so sorry. I thought it would be fun to watch your reaction when you saw Kane's work. I'm so sorry. I had no idea it would come as such a shock to you. I thought you knew. Are you okay? Take deep breaths. There you go," Jill babbled, rubbing Laura's back briskly.

Laura
raised her head from her lap and whispered to the floor, "I have his nuthatch."

"
Wondered where the little bugger went." The deep, rumbling voice came through the 'employees only' door and washed over her, raising the hairs on the back of her neck even as her skin continued to flush and freeze in prickly waves.

Kane
. God.

"
Well, now. I don't usually get this reaction about me work. Everything okay?" He knelt in front of Laura, taking her hands in his and rubbing her knuckles with his thumbs. She slowly raised her head, and looked into Kane's gorgeous eyes. She was stunned beyond speech.

Jill
's voice trembled. "I thought she'd get a nice surprise seeing your work, but it looks like it was a bit of a shock to her. I meant it to be a happy thing, now I feel like a dirty rotten bitch." She slumped down beside Laura, looking sick herself, and leaned her head on Laura's shoulder.

"
It's…" Laura had to clear her throat to get past the lump. "It's okay, honey. I'm okay. It was just unexpected is all. I don't know why I got so light-headed. Probably just need some lunch. Oh, we've had lunch, haven't we? God, I'm such a dork."

Kane reached up and brushed a curl from her sweat-dotted brow
. "Need a drink o' water, Spitfire?"

"
I'll get it." Jill slipped her caressing hand from Laura's back, hopped up from beside her on the bench, and rushed over to the water cooler, bringing back a paper cone of cool water. She held it out, Laura drank, then her lips tried to form a semblance of a wobbly smile.

"
You're K. Downey," she breathed.

"
Aye. Ever since I was a wee lad, actually," he chuckled.

"K.
Downey. The artist. I thought you were a farmer," she whispered dazedly. "With a kickass car that a rich uncle or some such shit gave you. K. Downey. The
artist!
I mean, I've admired your work…Jesus, Kane…
your
work
... for years. I bought your nuthatch after Joel left me. A consolation prize, I told myself."

"
That so. He was one o' the first pieces I'd sold, finished him even before I finished university. An aunt o' one of me professors fancied him, so off he went to Cork. How'd he come to be in yer possession?"

"
Oh, man. This is so freakin' bizarre. I'd gone to an estate sale to buy furniture for my house, and there he was. I could almost hear him beeping at me. I spent more money than I should have, but I had to have him. He has always had a place of honour in my living room, and whenever I was blue I'd look at him. Sometimes I'd even talk to him. Years later I looked up the mark under the piece on the internet. I realized that I'd found a rare treasure. I never knew how it came to be in Ontario from Ireland, but my grandparents were from Ireland, so it was like another sign. I think I was meant to have him. I can't believe I forgot, never put two and two together. I would never have known that you made my treasure. Holy God, Kane.
You
." A strangled noise came from her throat that might have been construed as a chuckle. "You would have been shocked if you'd ever come into my room at Puffin House. He's on my bedside table."

"
Tis an amazin' journey the wee fella's had, t' be sure. I'm glad ye've been enjoyin' him. Are ye feelin' yerself again, Spitfire?"

He held
her hands again and tugged as he stood. Jill and Shannon stood back a pace, Jill still a little green around the gills, Shannon as quiet and still as a church mouse.

After a few beats, the church mouse found her tongue
. "Momma, are Uncle Kane and Laura mad?" she whispered. "They're acting funny."

"
No, baby," she smiled. "They're friends, and they're happy about it." She lifted her daughter up into her arms and hugged her close. "I'm thinking that we should be getting out to see if Miss Lola is finished her nap. What do you think?" Shannon nodded slowly, her own nap missed long ago.

"
Oh, uh…I guess we should be going and let Kane get back to work," Laura stammered.

"
I don't do me work here, Laura. I just come in when the curator asks t' have a change fer the display, or when I'm the featured artist fer the children's classes. I'd very much like t' escort you three lovely ladies t' dinner if ye've no other plans."

Jill
shifted the sleepy-eyed girl to her other arm. "Shannon's had a long day, Kane. I really should get her home. But you should stay, Laura. Enjoy."

"
Laura, would ye stay? It'd please me."

Oh, boy
. She thought she would do just about anything to please Kane. But she didn't feel right about putting everyone on the spot. "Oh, I really should go. I...uh...Lola. She'll need to be walked and fed."

Jill
plowed in, barely tamping down the excitement in her voice. "Shannon and I can take care of her. You won't mind me driving your car, will you, Laura? I can return it and your dog tomorrow. Kane, you'll bring Laura back to the inn?"

"
T' be sure, Jilly-girl." He tugged a hank of her hair, his eyes twinkling.

"
It's all set then. We'll see you tomorrow, Laura. Have fun. Bye, Kane." She shoved her hand in Laura's pocket, fished out the car keys, pecked Kane on the cheek, and the freight train that was Jill pulled out of the station, leaving Laura standing there. With Kane.

She couldn't
meet his eyes, her gaze instead resting over his shoulder at his birds. His art.
For the love of God
. The man she had kissed with such abandon only a few days before, the quiet, sexy farmer, was a world renowned
artist
. What the hell was she supposed to do now? She planned to kill Jill when she saw her tomorrow. Slowly and with great relish.

"
Come on, Spitfire. We'll fortify ye with a Guinness and loosen up that tongue."

"
Kane, you don't have to. You got railroaded into this. I'll just go catch up with Jill."

"
Laura, have I offended ye? Upset ye in some way?" He searched her eyes with his beautiful, glittery,
gorgeous
blue ones, and she had to close hers to gather some form of a thought process.

She huffed out a deep sigh
. "I...God, I don't know what to say. I'm kind of in shock. First I find out that the guy I swapped spit with, spent the best day of my life with, is famous, then he's right here in front of me, no warning. I'm just a little rattled."

Kane grinned
.
She thought it was the best day of her life.

"
I'm happy that Jill brought ye here today. I've been wantin' t' see ye again."

"
You have?" Her embarrassed eyes lit with a spark. "I was hoping to see you again, too. I drove by the farm once but I didn't have anymore socks finished yet, so…"

He chuckled and slung an arm around her shoulders
. "Yer somethin' else, Spitfire. Let's go have a pint."

They drank
Guinness and dined on succulent seafood. They talked of everything and nothing. He told her of his younger years, a farmer's son, learning how to do chores from the time he could walk. He had a mother and father still living in Ireland, an older and younger sister, both married with children and living near their mum and dad. He told her of his dad, disgusted that his only son preferred to carve little birdies when he should have been playing hurling or rugby. But his parents had recognized his talent, and worked hard to save a bit of money to get him started in art school. They weren't poor, nor were they rich, but they wanted for their children an easier life than they had had, and they had done what they could for their son and daughters. Both girls had married computer programmers, and Laura expressed her surprise when Kane told her that Ireland was a mecca of computer engineering, that his homeland was considered the Silicon Valley of the UK.

Kane told her of all these things, but stopped short at the pivotal times of his life
. Fiona, then Claire, then their deaths. He just wasn't ready. He was surprised, and relieved, that she didn't ask why he wasn't married. But he hadn't asked much about her marriage either.

In the little time he had known her, he
had gotten the feeling that this was a loving and special person. And he knew that his Jilly wouldn't spend her time, and expose her daughter, to anything less. He just couldn't seem to reconcile the woman he was learning to know with one who would walk away from marriage and family casually. As a matter of fact, he was sure she hadn't. Life's circumstances could sometimes not be controlled. A fact that he knew only too well.

He suddenly remembered
a snippet of information when she told him how she came to own his nuthatch. Her husband had left her. With two wee boys. The bastard. He resolved to know more, to understand how she had grown to be the self-confident, vibrant, mercurial woman who sat across from him now in the pub. The need to spend more time peeling away those layers he had denied himself at first was eating a hole in his belly. But he owed her more details of his own life, too.

They finished the last crumbs of their meal, their last sips of creamy foam, and strolled down toward the harbour, enjoying the cool June evening.

"
I should take ye to Twillingate, Laura. Ye'll never see icebergs like that anywhere else. Interested?"

As they neared the gates that protected the harbour, she thought,
holy cow
. That would be awesome. To see that? With him? She grinned into the night. Huge. "You know you're shamelessly luring me, don't you?"

"
Ayup, I do. Is it workin'?"

"
Yes, you bad, bad man. I would love to go to Twillingate with you."

"
Only thing is, 'tis a fair wee drive, and t' truly have enough time t' spend in daylight hours we really would have t' spend the night."

He put up his hands when she raised her eyebrows
, still grinning.

"
Separate rooms. No hanky panky. Just what kind o' man do ye think me, Spitfire?"

Then
he returned her grin, salaciously, and that tantalizing dimple and crooked eye tooth wobbled her knees, and sent that giddy whoosh tingling through her belly again.

"
I think that my dog won't be my dog much longer if Miss Shannon keeps getting to babysit."

"
That's no dog, anyway. 'Tis a gerbil that barks."

"
Aw, bite me Downey. You choose your canine, I'll choose mine."

"
The pet shop saw ye comin' an' switched the signs on the cages is all."

She chuckled
. Why was everyone so teasingly derisive about her chihuahua anyway? Probably a stupid, macho guy thing.

"Why do all men feel the need to slag my dog
? You must all be homophobes. Well, except for my gay friends. They
love
her."

When his deep chuckle rolled over her, she shivered, then tried to hold on to a semblance of composure and not melt into a puddle of goo on the sidewalk.

"Actually, she was a rescue. She was in a breeding mill, and when the rescue workers got to her, she was terrified. They told me she stunk to high heaven and her fur was matted to her little body. I never saw her that way, thank goodness. I probably would have gone off on the bastards and been arrested. Thanks to the Humane Society, they're the ones who've been arrested. Anyway, when I got Lola they'd cleaned her up, but she was still afraid of her own shadow. I think that's why she loves me so much. She's been in the worst of care, and now, thanks to her rescuers, she has a good life."